It's Like ESPN or Something
by Wynn
Summary: Sam's not doing anything. Really, he's not. A humorous little Nightmare coda.


Title: It's Like ESPN or Something

Author: Wynn

Disclaimer: I do not own Sam or Dean. Eric Kripke does along with Wonderland productions, the WB, etc. They're in this story for non-profit, entertainment purposes only.

AN: First porn and now crack!fic. The power of the Brothers Dean compels me and I am helpless to resist.

It's Like ESPN or Something

By: Wynn

"Dude. Stop it."

"I'mnotdoinganything."

Dean gave Sam the Look, the one that said _I'm older and smarter and have known you your entire freaking life so don't even try to lie to me_,and Sam squirmed in his seat. He tried his best not to look at the salt shaker by his right hand, but his eyes betrayed him and glanced anyway. Then they glanced at Dean, and Sam felt his face grow hot as Dean leaned back and raised an eyebrow.

Stupid eyes. And people wondered why he grew his hair long.

Dean still looked, all silent and smug, and Sam squirmed again. He contemplated crawling beneath the table so he wouldn't have to look at Dean anymore or have Dean look at him, and said, "Shut up."

Because he was twelve.

It was better than kicking his brother in the shin, Sam thought, which is what he really wanted to do. Even if Dean did have his steel toe boots on and would kick Sam twice as hard in return.

Dean laughed and then coughed, the fakest fake cough _ever_, and it made Sam want to chuck the stupid salt shaker at his head in addition to kicking him in the shin. Twice.

"I didn't say anything," Dean said, trying to smother his stupid fake coughing laugh with his hand.

"You didn't have to. Jerk."

"I'm sorry, man. I- Really. But you should have seen your face."

Apparently Dean could see his face, or at least the memory of it, because he burst out laughing again, and Sam buried his head in his menu and tried to focus on the various breakfast choices before him and _not _on his idiot brother laughing his ass off in the booth opposite him.

Stupid Dean.

"I hate you," Sam said, not at all like a cranky second grader, and Dean laughed harder.

Which is when Sam kicked him in the shin.

Dean jumped and cursed and laughed at the same time, and people in the restaurant turned to stare at the amazing bouncing Winchester and his fire-engine red brother. Sam slumped down as low as he could go, knocking Dean's knees out of the way and kicking him again as Dean took a swipe at him from beneath the table.

The Belgian waffles looked good. Yes, they really did.

"Come on, Sammy. Don't be mad."

"I'mnotmad."

"Yeah, and I'm the Queen of England."

"You're a royal pain in the ass, I'll give you that."

"And you're-"

Dean didn't finish. Sam lifted his head and eyebrows and tried to bore twin holes into his brother's stupid, smirking face with the power of his stare. "I'm what?"

Dean shrugged and looked away, lifting his own menu to peruse the choices instead of answering Sam. Sam stared a couple seconds longer and waited for Dean to answer, but his brother stayed silent for more than thirty seconds, and Sam returned his attention back to his menu, thinking he was safe.

He wasn't.

Of course.

"It's just-" Dean said, and Sam sighed and laid his head down on the table.

"It's just, you were squinting so hard, man," his brother said, continuing on as though Sam hadn't just banged his head against the Formica tabletop a couple times. "I thought your whole face was going to explode or something."

Sam lifted his head and glared but stopped as Dean burst out laughing again. He needed a new way of conveying older brother displeasure aside from the squinty eyed glare of doom, which, apparently, had lost its effectiveness as soon as Sam had tried to play Spoon Boy this morning and move the salt shaker with only the power of his mind.

"Keep laughing," he grumbled, "and I'll make _your _head explode."

"Yeah, whatever. You can't do that."

Sam just stared.

"You can't."

Sam leaned back, didn't say anything, just leaned and looked, and Dean squirmed in _his _seat and buried his face in _his _menu and mumbled something along the lines of cranky college boys who needed to get a sense of humor stat.

Sam bit his lip and tried his best not to laugh. Maybe this whole ESP, psychic wonder thing wouldn't be so bad after all. Especially if it meant that Sam could make his brother squirm and stammer like a teenage boy on his first date without having to do anything more than narrow his eyes.

"I hate you, you know," Dean said and Sam leaned his head back and laughed.

Which is when Dean kicked him in the shin.

Hard.

Twice.

Sam jumped and cursed and laughed, and the people in the restaurant turned to look at them again but Sam didn't care. He didn't care because Dean laughed along with him, and they didn't think about why Sam was chosen or what would happen to him when Dean wasn't there or if there were any other boys out there like him and Max whose mothers died pinned to the ceiling. They laughed like they did when Sam was seven and Dean was ten and Sam tripped and fell over his own two feet just seconds before Dean tripped and fell flat on his face from laughing so hard at Sam.

They laughed so hard the salt shaker shook along with them, and Sam suggested Belgian waffles for breakfast.

…………

end


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